


Roses and Blood

by UnknownSatellite84



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood and Injury, But There Are Strings, Eobard is Self-Sabotaging, Fantasizing, Floor Sex, Hurt No Comfort, I Love You, Just Not How You Expect, M/M, No Strings Attached, Original Flash is a Dick, Roses, Rough Sex, Roughness, Sad, Sexual Content, Training, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-26 02:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12048990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownSatellite84/pseuds/UnknownSatellite84
Summary: There is no agony as bittersweet and exquisite as the love that will never be returned.





	Roses and Blood

_The door to the office opened, and the aroma of coffee hit Eobard's nose. He dragged his eyes up to see the graceful form and delightful face of the other man. “Hey,” the man said, gesturing with two steaming mugs, one occupying each hand. Eobard leaned back to take him in. “I know you weren’t expecting this, but I thought I’d sneak in, bring some coffee, say hi.” He smiled a smile that surely made the world turn._

_Eobard’s heart was like the sun, heated and bright. “You’re amazing.”_

_“Anything for my favorite guy.”_

The speedster wavered, eyes blinking away painful, unwanted images. This was not the time. He felt wet warmth drip down his brow, right into his eyes, so he snapped them shut. He reached up, touched the wetness, wiped it away with frantic swipes. He drew his hand back and risked opening his eyes, spying crimson on his gauntlet. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to being bloodied, yet he couldn’t help but think...

_Roses, they were deep red, like blood. They perched on the counter veiling the amazing man who sat behind them. “Eo,” he greeted in his soothing, rich voice._

_"H-"_

“Eobard!”

He dragged his gaze up to the same man from his thoughts standing across from him. Here, in reality, his face was twisted, merciless, full of impatience. His tone was harsh and irritated. “Come on, you’re not focusing!” He snapped, shifting from foot to foot and narrowing his eyes. “Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed out there? There are easier ways to die, you know.”

A deep-set ache made itself known in Eobard's chest. This man. He... He was Eobard's hero, his idol, the man he loved in the secrecy of his heart and mind, had loved for as long as he could remember. But he wasn't quite the same man Eobard had dreamed of for so long. They looked alike, but they were so very different in personality.

_"Those are incredible."_

_"They're for you. Your favorite." The vase of the crimson flowers shifted. The man grinned at him. “So, what do you want for dinner?”_

_“Oh, for those beauties, love, we can eat anywhere you desire.”_

_“Great. We could go to the waterfront seafood diner?”_

_“Sounds good."_

“I’m tired,” Eobard said, the pain in his chest building, the one that had nothing to do with the countless bruises that were surely decorating his torso. It also had nothing to do with how hard his breath was rushing in and out of him, how tight his lungs felt. He knew it wasn’t what the hero wanted to hear, but he said it all the same, “I-I need a break-”

“Your enemies won’t care that you’re tired," Flash interrupted, unrelenting. "They won't give you breaks.”

Flash always talked about "his enemies". He never mentioned allies, never talked of saving people, always spoke of pain and suffering and death when Eobard had seen no evidence that that was a hero's fate. "We have time," he pointed out. "It's not like-"

"When the time comes, you won't be ready. You won't expect it. You won't have enough time and experience. You won't feel confident, but you will either survive it, or you won't. However, this training will improve your chances." The hero stepped forward, twirling the training rod. “Take three laps around the speed course.”

Eobard jerked, agony resounding through his entire body at the unbelievable request. No, not a request. A _command_. “What? _Again_?” He stared at his hands wrapped with an iron hold around his own training rod. His fists were shaking. If he let up even a little, his fingers would go limp and the pole would fall to the ground. He concentrated on keeping that from happening.

“Yes." Flash replied, drawing Eobard's attention to his frowning lips. "Do it.”

He wanted to protest, to refuse, but he knew better. If he did, Flash would say they were through, and then Eobard would never be a hero. The younger speedster gritted his teeth and tossed the rod aside. He pivoted and burst into a run, breaking out of the private training ring. He darted down the assigned path, making his way into the woods, vaulting logs and ducking overhanging limbs until he was in the countryside. In a heartbeat, he was at Coast City, weaving through traffic and buildings.

_“You ever been to Coast City? They have the best food in all of America.” The man smiled at him, so ravishing with the sun glimmering in his hair like an angel's halo._

_“No, I haven’t,” Eobard returned, lost to him._

_"Change of plans.”_

_“What?”_

_His lover vanished in a burst of speed and gold lightning. Eobard blinked and was in the man’s arms, gazing into the galaxy that was his eyes. “Whoa-” he started, only to have the air yanked from his lungs. The world rushed by in a blur of green and steel and electricity as they moved hundreds of miles per hour. “I can run myself!” He protested, heat flooding his cheeks. Deep down, though, he was so grateful, so, so happy, for this._

_“I like it when you get flustered, Eo.”_

Eobard blazed through Coast City, racing along the coastline, running northward. The ocean crashed down before he made it to the next marker, splashing salty water across his entire body. He tripped, but managed not to fall flat, feet sinking into the sand and throwing him off balance. He stopped and coughed. It was cold. So cold. He inhaled, exhaled, muscles feeling like old gum, like they would tear the moment he stretched them again. He growled and pushed on, relying on the warmth of the Speed Force to keep him running.

_The slender hand slipped into Eobard's as they trailed down the beach. The sun glowed red on the sea, bright and comforting. The tide slid into the shoreline, erasing all patterns in the sand and replacing them anew. The air was balmy and salty. “It’s breathtaking here," he murmured, gazing at the whitecaps and deep blue waters._

_“Anywhere with you is breathtaking."_

_Eobard looked at him, smiling. It seemed like he always had a reason to smile now, so different from grim days long past. This was everything he wanted. “I’d go to the ends of the universe with you, and it would still be home to me.”_

Eobard’s ears rang with a pressure change and he whipped around, darting through countless cities and back towards Central. Breathing was a struggle, like a steel band had been drawn around his lungs and tightened to allow but a millimeter of space in his air passages. Every inch of his musculature burned. Places hurt that he wasn't even sure why. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. One lap. Two laps. Three-

_The man pressed their lips together, tracing the seam of his own with a gentle tongue. His hand traveled across Eobard’s neck, fingertips like feathers. Eobard wrapped his arms around his waist, tilting his head. This incredible man touched him, made him feel whole and alive with a simple stroke of his hand, with an uncomplicated press of the mouth. Eobard felt the warm contact in his hair, a resting hand placed there._

I love you. I love you. I love you I love you I love you-

Eobard tripped and fell, the world spinning. He tumbled across the grassy terrain and crashed through a long expanse of small bushes with angry-red flowers, little thorns ripping through the skin of his face. A terrible agony flared up in his side, drowning everything else out, and he yelled, gasping. He coughed, heaving, hyperventilating for oxygen. He viewed the sky through tree limbs with a vision smeared in tears. His body shook, and he lowered his eyes to see more blood pouring down his side where a jagged chunk of wood from a dead tree was lodged. Fuck, fuck, it hurt. It _hurt_. He felt sick, wondered if he might throw up. Sweat dripped down his face. Uncertainty plaguing his actions, he grabbed the spear-like wood and tugged on it. It shifted, working more anguish from him. The movement, it was too slow. He had to stop, wait, try again. A whimper left his mouth. More blood ran down his side. Bile rose in his throat. He swallowed hard.

 _Pathetic_. He was so pathetic.

With a cry, he wrenched it free, every inch of him shivering. He wasn't convinced he hadn't done more damage in the process, though.

_Flash handed him a rose. “Your favorite.”_

He lay on the ground, on his back, trying to ignore the agony, his chest rapidly rising and falling. The wound began to heal, and after what felt like far too long, the agony faded along with the queasiness. _Another ruined suit. I’m already way behind on my time. Flash won’t be pleased._ _What a perfect day._

_“What a perfect day. I want it to last forever.”_

_Those long fingers fit just right into the spaces between his own._

Eobard wanted to stay here, didn't want to go back, wanted to dream while awake about what could've been if things were different. He draped an arm over his eyes, holding back tears. How could anyone be so miserable at being a simple _sidekick?_ How could he ever be a hero if he was so hopeless at simple _training?_ He rolled over and pushed to his shaking legs, wincing. He took off, racing back home. He arrived, staggering into the arena. All the energy evaporated far too fast, leaving him flailing wildly for something, anything to catch ahold of. He twisted his ankle and met the ground head on, gasping at the fresh pain. Eobard, humiliated, dragged his focus to the hero as he tried to find the strength to rise again.

Flash looked unimpressed. “Did you stop to get your picture taken and dine, Fanboy? Ten minutes. _Ten minutes._ That’s just terrible. You’re a dead man running at this point.”

“I...fell..." He hated how stupid that sounded, how it didn't even begin to sum up the reason he was so late. Exhaustion, his aching body, not to mention the hunger now building in his stomach and the thirst tickling his throat would all just be excuses to the hero, no matter how truthful they were.

“Then you should have gotten back up.”

“I had...a _goddamned hole_...in my side!” He snarled before he could stop himself. Maybe he should have cheated the course, though he had a feeling the Flash would've somehow known if he had.

“Come on,” Flash said, “get your slow ass up and fight like your life depends on it! You're just going to waste your time and likely your life if you don't take this seriously.”

 _But I do!_ Eobard pushed away the familiar fires of rage struggling to come to life in his heart. He forced his arms to move, forced his body to respond. He struggled to a stand, heart pounding against his ribcage like a prisoner wanting to escape. Maybe it did want to. After all, this was not what it had asked for when it'd yearned for the hero of Central City. Maybe it was as done with this as he felt in that moment, even as he knew he would never be able to walk away. He had that choice, but it didn't feel like a choice at all. He had to succeed, no matter the cost.

_“You’re amazing at being a hero,” the man commented from where they stood on the rooftop, watching the police haul away the criminal. His arm wound around Eobard’s waist._

_“Amazing is a rather strong word for this situation,"_ _Eobard replied, modest as the best heroes were, though inside he was glowing. “That idiot made it far too easy with this lame setup.”_

_His beloved's head leaned against his own. “No casualties. Those people could have become victims, but they didn't. They get to go home tonight to their families because of your quick thinking and intelligence. You have a lot of talent.”_

_"Thank you for believing in me when no one else did." Eobard inhaled the cool night air, eyes flicking to the stars in the heavens above. He felt peaceful and whole, content._

Eobard mustered as much energy as he could - which wasn't much - and snarled, throwing himself forward. Flash sidestepped. Eobard pivoted, lashing out. Flash deflected, retaliated. Eobard felt another impact that jarred his thoughts loose and threw them into a jumbled up mess. He could easily foresee the nasty bruise that would form on his jaw, the one of many on his body. He half wondered- No. There was no time to think. A fist rushed at his face.

He ducked.

Contact missed by millimeters.

_The endearing man snuggled against Eobard, grasping his hand tightly, pleasant body heat seeping from him, soft hair brushing Eobard's cheek. The movie played, and Eobard found his gaze drawn to the man’s eyes as they turned to him. They were as alluring and calming as the first time he'd looked into them, drawing Eobard right down to their depths._

_Eobard kissed him. “We are complete..."_

_He chuckled. “You’re missing the movie.”_

_"I'd miss_ the world _for you."_

_Their attention returned forward. On the nearby desk, Eobard glanced at the crimson wax dripping down the rose-scented candle._

_Roses._

Eobard cannoned into the ground, in more pain than he thought possible. He shut his eyes to hide the tears, hands turning to fists on the floor mat. At least they had that much, this meager amount of cushioning.

“You’re a wimp," hissed the Flash. Eobard's regard snapped to him. "Not just a wimp, but a clichéd one." He grabbed the training pole, running his hand down it. He paused, gaze rising with a thoughtful, almost wicked grin on his face. He turned to his trainee. He scoffed, expression caving to disapproval. “ _Roses_.”

That hurt. Eobard admitted that much to himself. He met the piercing glare with reluctance. “How do you-?”

“You talk in your sleep, Fanboy.”

 _What?_ Was that true? It had to be, otherwise the Flash wouldn't have known, so what else might he have said? _Oh god-_ But he hadn't been thrown out yet, so obviously- Obviously... Eobard’s throat tightened, gut knotting. It was obvious what the man meant. _You'll never have what it takes to be a hero._

His fists clenched until they ached. Fatigue evaporated like morning fog and fire flooded his skin. The anger he'd been fighting down for awhile now broke free like a monster set loose from its cage. The room around him turned scarlet in thousands of intricate hues that seemed impossible for a human to see. Fresh energy boiled in his veins, surging throughout his body. It was similar to those moments he felt an impossible anger, an impossible _hatred_ for the people that had ruined his life, his innocence, but this feeling was so far beyond that. He was powerful, mighty, terrifying. He roared and launched himself at the Flash. For the first time in his life he wanted blood, not roses, from the hero.

“That’s more like it!”

_“You’re about to learn that I. Am. No. Cliché. Flash!”_

Eobard moved fast, so very fast; it was like his enemy stood still. His fist collided with skin-covered bone, sending the hero reeling. Step over step, the Scarlet Speedster's feet were uncertain until he caught himself, face turned away, a hand sitting at the point of impact.

The younger speedster froze, immobile, unmoving. He didn't even tremble or gasp for air. His heart thudded, and he felt a little sick again for an entirely different reason than before. His colored vision faded to normal hues, and the potency in his veins ran dry.

He'd...he'd _punched_ the _Flash_ \- not a simple practice tap. This had been full force. He'd punched the Flash like he was punching a criminal!

The older speedster turned back to him.

Eobard felt rooted, paralyzed.

Flash moved his hand and wiped his split lip. Blood glistened on his gloved fingers, and he studied it almost curiously, like he'd never seen his own blood before.

 _“Ouch," the man said like he was commenting on the weather._ _Eobard took his hand and saw the cut on his finger. Blood beaded on the skin. “Good thing being a speedster. It’ll heal.”_

_Eobard frowned at his relaxed, almost amused expression. “Be more careful with those knives.” He took a disposable towel and dabbed the blood away._

_“You do realize you’re being a bit unrealistic, right? They're just tiny paring knives. This is already healed.”_

_“I don’t like seeing you hurt. Even a little.”_

_“Aw. Aren’t you a sweetheart?”_

Eobard swallowed.

“Well, well,” Flash said, lowering his hand. For the first time, his expression was not distasteful. A smile grew on his face. Eobard experienced shock. It was a real, genuine _smile,_ not a sardonic smirk or a disbelieving leer. “You actually hit me, Fanboy... Good job. Alright. We can call it a night.”

Eobard let out a huge breath, deflating all at once. The remaining energy fled his body, and he slumped to the floor on weakened knees, but at the same time, he felt rather proud of himself. He sat, hope growing. Maybe all that negativity weighing him down was in his head and could be overcome. Maybe he wasn't so bad at being a sidekick. Maybe he wasn't so bad at being a hero. Confident reassurance filled his heart, and now he just wanted to lie down somewhere and dream of the future - or, at the very least, the possibilities of the future.

“You want a reward for your hard work?” The sudden question left the hero's mouth.

Eobard blinked, trying to process what he'd heard, looking up at the Flash's approach. “What do you-?”

Flash pushed him against the mat, leaning over him with a keen gaze. Eobard grunted in surprise as the other man’s weight settled on his waist. Firm hands rubbed his shoulders.

"O-oh." This was unexpected, but he wasn’t about to say no. "S-sure-yeah," he stammered out.

Flash didn't waste a moment. He dived in and bit at his lips. Eobard reciprocated, trying to kiss around the bites. Their teeth hit. Eobard winced.

Flash jerked back, looking annoyed. “ _Fanboy_.” He shifted and undid Eobard's suit. Pulling the top portion open, he exposed the younger speedster's chest. Eobard felt his eyes widen against his will. It shouldn't have been suprising, the spattering of bruises discoloring his torso, but it still seemed far too many. Normal people didn't have this happen to them almost every day. Normal people, if they incurred this much damage, would go to the hospital. "Looks like you still have a few things to learn." Eobard couldn't help but think that the man looked pleased, though, like the marks were hickeys and not actual _contusions_.

Flash shifted back until he was on Eobard's thighs. His hand landed between the younger speedster's legs, giving a harsh squeeze.

Eobard moaned. “ _God_.”

_The man melted against Eobard, and they brushed their lips together. They played there like that, hands roaming each other’s bodies with careful, light precision, mapping and asking. The beautiful man pulled off his shirt, then his pants. Eobard followed, and their bare bodies quickly pressed together, warm and alive._

Flash yanked Eobard’s pants down, an agitated energy in his actions, as though he wasn't quite getting what he wanted out of this exchange. Eobard was a little uneasy at the body language, the lack of satisfaction; he wanted to be whatever the hero needed, whatever he wanted. "Flash-" he started.

"Shh," Flash responded, pulling off his gloves. "You don't need _me_ to teach you that talking is such a mood killer."

Eobard saw the hero materialize the bottle, push down his suit and lube up. He didn’t bother further. He thrusted into the younger speedster.

“Oh shit!” Eobard moaned, throwing his head back. The stretch burned. He writhed. “Fuck...that _hurts_ ,” He panted.

“There you go, Fanboy,” Flash said, pulling his legs up to his shoulders and shoving further in. "You're so _tight_."

Eobard bit his lip hard. He tasted blood. He felt the Flash completely over him, pinning him, his own knees pressed against his chest. He would be lying if he said he didn't like the feeling of being trapped and filled by his hero. Flash curled onto him and rocked harder, slamming into him without any semblance of mercy. Eobard clawed at the mat, pleasure and pain lancing through his mind like a spear driving home, straight through to his heart. How could this be everything and nothing that he wanted all at the same time?

 _Soft music played, the silky scent of roses punctuated by the ozone of the Speed Force._ _They melded together, bodies entwined in love. They were like one being, connected on an emotional and mental, almost spiritual, level._ _Their movements were synchronized, like they were made for each other, and deep down, Eobard knew they were._

_"Always and forever, Eobard.”_

_"Always and forever."_

Flash panted, sweat dripping down his forehead. Eobard couldn't stifle his voice, lost as he was to the sensation of the other man driving harder and harder. Everything slowed with the heightened Speed Force. Eobard's body vibrated uncontrollably. Gold and red electricity filled the air. The room atmosphere glowed.

"Yes- More. _Please_."

 _They kissed, moving faster and faster in perfect unison. The world blurred into a meaningless backdrop._ _The passion built._

The pleasure rose.

_“I need you. I-I-”_

He didn't know what was dream or reality.

Eobard arched up, coming with a hoarse cry. He lost himself in it, blinded to everything but the way it felt, like a million moments of love and awe and excitement all condensed into a short ten seconds or so. Flash's body trembled against him and he moaned deeply, releasing into Eobard. It was over so fast, the real world cruelly reasserting its authority, blotting out the fantasy. Eobard's legs fell and Flash slumped against him, head on his shoulder, facing away, the suit emblem digging against Eobard's sore chest. The young speedster didn't care though. He basked in this feeling. This was the closest he got to the intimacy he desired with the man he loved unconditionally.

 _They lay together, bare skin on bare skin, still and as one, gazing into each other’s eyes. Eobard's fingers traced small_ I love you's _across his lover's shoulder blades._

_"Love you too."_

Eobard sighed. “...I love you.”

“What?” Flash asked, stiffening against him. "What did you just say?"

Eobard felt a cold, tingling dread run down his spine, dominating every other emotion he felt. Resisting the urge to freeze up, he thought fast. “I hit you,” he rasped, blinking hard, panic just at the edge of his thoughts. “I can’t believe it. _I hit you_ ,” he repeated, willing himself to sound composed and fine when he most definitely wasn't.  _Please believe me. Please, don't leave me-_

Flash relaxed marginally. “That you did.” Flash did believe him. It was almost disappointing, but it was more relieving. “Don't let it go to your head, though. I wasn't kidding when I said you still have a lot to learn. Go home now. Rest and recover.” He pulled away with a rough tug and yanked up his pants. Without so much as a backward glance, he vanished in a burst of speed.

Eobard's throat tightened. Something wasn't right. He just didn't know what. He pushed the feeling away and picked himself up. He pulled on his own pants, ignoring the trickling sensation. His suit was already ruined, so there was no point in stressing about the added damage. He sped back home. He halted and found himself staring at the rose bush at the end of the walkway.

 _I’ll always love you, Flash._ Eobard closed his eyes and didn’t move an inch. Behind his eyelids, red and more red lingered. _Roses are red... Just like blood. Just like you. If only you felt the same about me the way I do about you._


End file.
